


Chocolate

by PinkAfroPuffs



Series: Fate/Slutty Meme Magus [2]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: And other such nonsense, F/M, Fallout Video Game References, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Mutual Pining, Tumblr Memes, and no one will ever take him from me, but only the bad ones i promise, dad merlin is the best merlin, moron x moron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-30 20:27:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20103145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkAfroPuffs/pseuds/PinkAfroPuffs
Summary: Merlin has never been the careful or responsible type, but now he's beginning to wish he was.





	Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hungry...........

The Grand Caster will never be honest about how and what he tastes when he eats. There are very specific variables that are both too easy and too lengthy to describe; the intricacies of human life, human _ emotion _ bottled into palpable words that flow freely from the tongue- such simplicity doesn’t exist. It isn’t _ possible _\- and while there are some things that he definitely does not understand, it doesn’t make this truth hidden from him. 

He should not have eaten the food she made. Ifumi _ was _ an excellent cook, after all, and it made him wonder if there was any end to the wonders of this Master. Maybe that’s why fate had chosen her, or why she would have such a fantastic end-

But he wasn’t going to be around for those sorts of things. Merlin was here for the fun part, and dwelling on anything _ other _ than the food or which meme he was going to send to the group chat would be disastrous. There would be no more meddling on his part. He hummed as he made his way down the hall, gliding about in an attempt to find something interesting to do. 

“Good morning Chaldea!” He says to no one in particular. “Who’s ready for another day of saving the foundation of humanity!” He’s met with several groans, which only widens his smile. “Excellent!” 

Without even an introduction, he pokes his head into Ifumi’s room, only to find the bed made and the room completely empty. He pouts. It would’ve been really fun to wake her up himself, but now he just wants to see what she’s doing so early! 

She was a very responsible sort of Master; even before lending his services to her and being summoned as a pseudo-Servant, he’d seen very clearly what she valued above all else- service to others. So, either she would be out training someone, or doing inventory. 

“What a busy bee~” He hummed. “Better stop her from overworking herself.”

Indeed, the magus found her in the training room, though no Servants- save Mash- were present. Instead- to his surprise, no less- she looked a lot like she was...exercising. Curious. He doesn’t see much of what she’s actually up to before she notices him- her head tilts back, as though she’s become aware of something- and waves. “Merlin! Good morning!” She’s dressed in a green yoga shirt that says _ Quick _ on it, and pants that have the Mages’ Association’s insignia on the waistband. Sweat glistens against her dark skin like light twinkling against melanite, and when she raises one of her bandaged hands it’s to push the headband back a bit further on her head, to keep the fluff of her black hair out of her face. “Did you want to come to breakfast with me?”

He opens his mouth and begins to say something, but thinks better of it. “Mmmm, yes,” he smiles. “Come, come, time to eat.”

“Oh, awesome. Wait,” she holds her hands out to him. “I need to wash up. Hate being sweaty.”

“I doubt anyone would mind,” he begins with a little smile, but she shoos him off.

“I mind!” She shouts. “Wait for me.”

“Is that a command or a suggestion?” He muses, leaning back on his staff. “Hmmmm.”

“I _ suggest _ you not rush me if you don’t want to get hit with a towel!” She threatened good-naturedly, and then disappeared into the shower area. He didn’t even get to warn that he might like being hit. 

She’s finished with her shower before he can properly get comfortable and ask Mash as many questions as he wants; knowing at this point that Mash is not only a psuedo-Servant but as close as Ifumi can get to having a lady-in-waiting, Merlin occasionally makes a point to interrogate her about their shared Master instead of asking directly. Observing her from afar is far more intriguing than being up close and personal, though he doesn’t consider that a part of the allure might be his unwillingness to part with his nature of healthy distance. 

Emiya is always so precise with what makes. The food prepared in the cafeteria always takes a little while and everything is made with care...but it never tastes _ right _ to Merlin (a fact he keeps to himself), so he immediately passes. “I’m just a bystander,” he hums.

“You seem very keen on that,” Ifumi says, though it’s almost under her breath. He thinks that’s interesting about her too. How much is she seeing with those normal, human eyes of hers?

“I’m just being honest!” He shrugs. “It does no good to waste resources on someone who doesn’t eat-”

“Only me and Mash need to eat, Caster,” Ifumi butts in.

“-_ especially _ if I don’t enjoy doing so!” He continued. “Is it wrong to cut corners sometimes, to make things easier on others?”

“...you always make arguments you’ve set yourself up to win, don’t you?” There’s a smile behind the accusation, but he senses it’s an unwilling one. It doesn’t bother him. 

“Of course~” He chuckles. “Shouldn’t I be able to know that much?”

She wrinkles her nose at him. It’s not quite a look of disgust, but the dark freckles on her face twinkle up at him in the most amusing way that it earns a laugh. “You can know it and keep it to yourself.”

“But, Master,” he smirks at her, unable to help himself, “where’s the fun in that?”

She harrumphs and grabs her tray before making her way over to an empty table. “Is arguing only fun if you win?”

He refrains from admitting that arguing is entertainment, and that the outcome makes no difference to him; the energy he receives from it, the same that he passes on to other people- that sort of feeling can’t be replicated by other forms of interaction. It’s one of the interesting realities of life. “Arguing does tend to be more fun when I win, yes.”

Ifumi only shakes her head, but that smile...again she smiles that smile, as though some form of her interest has been piqued as well. “Then I’m glad you’re having fun, Caster.”

Sometimes, he wishes she wasn’t so sweet to him; nay, it made him more comfortable at times to be slapped on the head, or the wrist, or even poked in the ribs because of something he’d done. It was a practice he was used to, after all, and to an extent, it made him feel better about his place in the universe. An inherently bastardly person deserved no sort of true connection with other people in a lawful world. “I’m always having fun, Master,” he begins. “It would be a boring not to.”

“Some things are just boring,” she shrugs, then pops an apple slice into her mouth. “Sometimes sleeping is boring.”

“Oh? Master, if you think sleep is boring, I can fix that-” He teases. “I’m an incubus, after all.”

She doesn’t answer this, chewing thoughtfully as she closes her eyes. Then, “Are you joking or are you actually offering?”

He’s quick on the uptake but doesn’t jump to conclusions, so he only answers with a coy smile. “I can do whatever you want, Master. You only have to ask.”

“Really,” she muses, and another piece of apple disappears between her full lips. “Can you go to Gamestop and get me a copy of Bambi on PS2?”

It’s here that Merlin loses his nerve. A laugh bubbles up from his stomach as he presses his lips into a thin line. She’s already laughing at him so hard she nearly chokes on her apple slices. “You took advantage of my kindness!”

Ifumi chortles and tilts her head back. “I didn’t know what memes you knew and which you didn’t, but I got you. I can’t believe you know that stupid green M&M meme.”

“Aren’t all the best memes obscure?” He asks, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“No!” She says a little too loudly. “The more people are in on the joke, the better.”

He finds himself agreeing with this. “High comedic value.”

“High co-_ meme-ic _ value,” she corrects him, and he nods slowly, propping his chin on his palms as he watches her with interest.

“Master, you’re a little too good at this sort of thing, aren’t you?” There’s something about this that feels new. Refreshing, even. “Are you secretly a comedic genius, I wonder?”

She grins and finishes her apple slices. “I’m just a clown with good material,” she replies, and it makes him laugh, but wonder what that makes him in return.

* * *

He’s in the middle of “Story Time!” with a gaggle of child Servants when the delectable aroma of chocolate chip cookies wafts into his nose. “Hmmm.” Though he usually doesn’t like stopping in the middle of a tale, he does, though only to say, “I believe Emiya might be preparing a snack for you. Should we finish now, or go check on him?”

“Emiya has snacks?!” As he knows, telling a group of children that they might get snacks riles them up, so it’s off to the kitchens for them. 

“Maybe he needs some help.” He offers. “Come, come, let’s get them while they’re hot!”

When the kitchen comes into view, Merlin marches his army of child-Servants to the back, where the cookie smell is coming from. It becomes apparent that while Emiya _ is _ in the kitchen, so is their Master. Flour coats her hands as she hums to herself and pulls out a ball of dough from the bowl sitting beside her. When she looks up, her brown eyes are alight with excitement, and she smiles. “Oh! I was just going to get you all. Does anyone want to cut cookie shapes?”

It’s inevitable that the resounding _ yes _ sends several of the Servants flocking to her, some going so far as to trample into the space where the stove sits and press their faces against it (namely Bunyan, but she seems torn between doing this and making shapes in the dough). Emiya seems serene about the whole thing, despite the sudden overflow of people, and Merlin hangs back a bit- though the cookies do seem tempting. “Oohoo~ Are any of them done?”

“I thought you didn’t like to eat,” Ifumi smirks at him. “I don’t see why cookies are different than breakfast-”

“Hoh? Trying to use my own words against me?” He rolls up his sleeves and flits into the kitchen just as Archer is placing a try atop the stove, and snatches one off. “Ow!”

“Why take one if you know it’s hot, Merlin.” She uses her elbow to wipe the sweat from her brow, but still manages to get some flour on her hairline. Quaint.

“Delayed gratification isn’t always what it’s cracked up to be,” he begins, eyes up to the ceiling as he thinks about it. “Well, I’d like to say so, but _ sometimes _-”

Emiya bumps him so hard he drops the searing hot treat, and then clears his throat. “Are you finished?”

“Oh, no,” he assures him, “I’m only getting started! You see, we were in the middle of a tale about the ever expansive universe-”

“Cookies! I want one!” Nursery Rhyme attempts to snag one off the still-hot pan, but Merlin instinctively snatches her up and alley-oops her on the other side.

“Now, now,” he chides, “you must be careful if you want to give our Master peace of mind, hm?” It doesn’t seem a challenging task to convince her of this, and though she seems a little put off by it, she accepts it with a little puff of her cheeks.

“Do as I say, not as I do?” Ifumi asks behind him, and he holds his breath. She always smells like coconuts and freesia when he’s around. Maybe a bit of coffee, as well. 

“I should hope no one follows my example,” he hummed. “I do a lot of things other people can’t.”

“Mm? Are you going to pull out a complicated list of them?” Ifumi plops a little dough person on the cookie sheet and then brushes past him enough to leave some of that coconut-coffee smell on him, and doesn’t seem to mind how close they are. He moves back, though, instinctively, and contemplates her question.

“I could, if you gave me a night or so,” he rubs his chin. “Is that something you want?”

She gives him a curious expression as she shuts the oven, her eyes sweeping over his face in a manner that makes him ask, “Hm? Something wrong, Master?”

It takes a little longer than normal to answer; when she seems comfortable enough to give one, it’s by grabbing a now-warm cookie off the tray and offering it to him. “They’re okay now.”

He takes it carefully, but again, refrains from putting it in his mouth. Instead, he offers it to Nursery Rhyme. “Here you are! Eat them to your heart’s content.” She cheers and claps her hands as she receives it, but he still feels Ifumi’s eyes on him, so he takes another for himself, though again, he refrains from eating it. In fact, he says, “Oh! Bunyan’s found the flour.”

Ifumi does spare a glance at this, but she purses her lips at him. “...if you don’t want any...don’t worry about it. Just put it on the plate.”

“Oh, on the contrary, I want to eat all of them,” he admits. “But that might spoil everyone else’s fun.” As if to demonstrate, he takes a bite of the cookie in his hand and shrugs at her. 

She seems sort of pleased with this; it occurs to him- for not the first time- that she may have been a little worried about him, though he can’t fathom why. The love she extends to all of her other Servants...can he truly say he deserves that sort of thing-

The warmth of the cookie caresses the inside of his mouth before he realizes it; before he can remember why he _ didn’t _ want to eat it, he’s finished with the whole treat, fingers carefully savoring even the tiniest bit of chocolate in reserve. Sweet, savory, light and warm. 

_ Love, patience, joy. _

He turns away. Then, despite his best judgement, he snatches three more of them and hides them in his sleeves. “Hmmmm. You’ve made lots, Archer. Fit for the army of Chaldea, hm?”

Emiya seems to be ignoring him on purpose. He looks good in his apron, though. “Should we make another, Master? I have enough dough here for two more batches.”

“Ooh!” Ifumi presses her floured hands together. “...hm. Should we do them all at once? I’m not sure how many Servants like cookies…”

“Enough,” Merlin butts in. “And anyone would love treats from you-”

“Save it.” She waves him off. “We’ve been over this before, and it just comes down to who likes cookies and who doesn’t!”

He doesn’t want to say that everyone is a _ little bit _ in love with her; that would be overstepping, and mildly untrue. There are plenty of Servants who are totally enamored with her, and saying ‘a little’ would be a massive understatement. “Alright, Master. I suppose you can win this time.” 

She wiggles her entire person and holds her nose up at him, clearly pleased to be given such an honor. “Thank you!”

“Now then,” he says aloud, “does anyone want to hear the rest of that story?”

The resounding _ yes _ sends many of the child Servants clamoring to sit, though Ifumi herself stays standing. She’s busy taking spoonfuls of chocolate-chip cookie dough out of the bowl, though the last had been sugar-cookie men.

“As I was saying,” he begins, “war ...war never changes. In a desolate, desert wasteland, a lone ranger- a mailman- travels to find a package she’s lost…”

* * *

He’s going to get sick, eating all of these sweets. The human part of him pleads for him to take care of his stomach, but the incubi part just wants _ more _ of the delightful feelings that are baked into the treats. Still, eating isn’t a luxury, and taking what he can get -especially in small quantities- is doable. He’ll never be past “the prime of his youth” as they say, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get acid reflux.

….this is bad, though. Exactly what he feared. Getting into the flavor, the taste of how strong her emotions are- or how many of them she’s willing to share- is exactly why he was hesitant to come down from his tower. But then again, wasn’t that why he was still up there? 

“Merlin?” 

The soft knock on his door makes him lean back so far in his chair it’s ready to tip. “The door is always open~!”

Why does she insist on bringing him food! How many times does he have to tell her- “I heard from Bunyan that you stole a bunch of cookies when I wasn’t looking.” Master looks quite serene when she says this, as though deriving personal joy from knowing these things. “So I thought you might have a bit of a stomach ache, and I made some soup.”

“Oho?” He leans back even further, his chair held up by pure luck alone. “For me?”

“For you and many other Servants,” she adds, and he pouts.

“Master, why don’t you spoil me? I’m your best Caster! Don’t I _ deserve _ to be appreciated~!” 

“Alright, alright,” she waved her hand. “I made it myself, though. So it’s still special.”

More than she knew. “Mmmm…. well, I can forgive it, I guess. A cute Master bringing her home cooking to my room-”

“You’d better watch it, or I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to taste anything again,” she smiles, though the intense light in her eyes sort of excited him. 

“Yes, chef!” He saluted, though in doing so he lost his balance and his chair hit the floor. “Oops.”

“Karmic retribution,” she tutted, but she set the bowl down and held out her hand to him. 

“Aww. You’re sweet, Master. Especially while I’m in _ such _ a compromising position-” He began, at which point she crossed her arms at him.

“It’s not sexy if I didn’t agree to it,” she informs him, then holds her hands out again. He takes them to pull himself into a sitting position. “Oh! You aren’t that heavy, are you? Like skin and bones!” She gasps. 

He gasps at her, too. “Master! How could you say such a thing! My slim, bishounen physique is what makes me so sexy!” The pushing and pushing is too much fun not to give in to; he wonders if this will be her tipping point, and receives her answer when she pinches his hand near his wrist, which actually kind of hurts. “Ouch~!”

“That doesn’t mean-” She presses her lips into a thin line, but he’s sure that if the lighting were better, he would be able to see dark blotches of blood flushing against the dark-brown skin of her cheeks. “...that doesn’t mean you can get out of everything with it, Merlin. Or win arguments.”

He knows this, but she says it so interestingly that he smiles at her. “Have you taken it into account, then?”

She puffs her cheeks out just so; her eyebrows scrunch together in frustration as she looks at the ground and then back at him, pausing for a while before she answers. “You’re too cheeky to be called cute.”

This amuses him. What doesn’t amuse him is the way her touch lingers before she drops his hand. It’s too close, the tips of her fingers, her hands filling to the brim with-

...whatever she’d baked into those cookies.

Before he can properly move, she draws back. “Whatever. Whatever! Just-” She fluffs out her afro a little bit. “Eat the soup! And quit falling out of chairs!”

He can’t help but smile. “Whatever you want, Master.”

She wrinkles her nose at him. He can’t help but watch as her hands fly to the curls near the back of her head and pull on them softly. “Good night.”

He cradles his cheek with the heel of his hand to watch her as she goes; with a glance at the soup on the table, he can’t help feeling nostalgic for chili. With one finger he dips into the bowl, careful to swirl it in a little circle before he presses it to his tongue and closes his eyes.

“My, my,” he muses. The component of whatever flavor she’d left in the soup- a little spicy, a little sweet- made him crave more of it, despite knowing what that might do to him. A little laugh escapes him and he reaches for the bowl anyway, dipping another finger in before he hums to himself.

“Thank you for the food,” he says, then downs the entire bowl.


End file.
